A Shoulder To Lean On
by Phanita
Summary: Martha and Lionel are anguished at the aftermath of Dark Thursday. In their time of need, they turn to each other for comfort and encouragement. Mionel.


A/N: A short Mionel one-shot that takes place in season 6, episode one. It's my take on what happens after Clark goes to confront Lex/Zod. Enjoy! –Alexandra

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Smallville, though if I had, rest assured I would have added more Mionel goodness. Those two deserved more screen time!

* * *

Clark had left in a hurry, his mission to stop Zod and save Lana.

Martha was still staring after her son, anxiety apparent in her ocean-blue eyes, her body trembling from all that had happened today.

When Lionel lay a hand on her back, she startled into looking at him, gazing fearfully up into those grey, caring eyes.

"Martha," he murmured in solicitous concern, touching the cut above her eye with gentle fingers. "Perhaps we should take you to the hospital. . ."

"No, no hospitals. I want to stay here." She eyed him with her trademark look. "I think you look as terrible as I do, Lionel. Look at us! We make quite the pair, don't you think?" She was rambling. She couldn't handle situations like these, where her son might be in terminable danger. Folding her arms across her chest, she managed a smile. "Come inside and I'll take care of those cuts," she told Lionel, taking a step towards the house, knowing he would follow her.

Lionel hesitated, watching the woman he cared deeply for amble quietly out into the barnyard, her pace faltering and unsure. He felt just as uncertain, just as perturbed. After all, Lex might be dead by the end of the day because of his foolish decision to trust Milton Fine. Hadn't Lionel taught his son never to offer up his trust so easily? Apparently, his lessons had all been for nothing. Shaking his head despondently, he started forward.

Lionel caught up to Martha, falling into step with her. They headed into the house and she disappeared upstairs, coming down promptly with a first-aid kit in her hands. She instructed Lionel to sit at the table, then went to the kitchen for a bowl of water. When she returned, she dipped a cloth into the clean liquid and gently began cleaning his wounds.

Despite the parlous situation, Lionel was thrilled at this attention from Martha Kent. Her gentle fingers worked in steady motion as she wiped the dried blood from his face. It was truly alleviating.

"It must have been chaos in Metropolis," she assumed sombrely.

"It was. Frankly, I've never seen a more chaotic situation."

Martha pressed down on the gash upon his cheek and he winced. "I'm sorry, Lionel. . ." Flustered, she drew back her hand, her lips forming a thin line as she set the cloth down.

"No, it's quite all right, Martha," Lionel assured her gently.

She took a bottle of witch hazel and applied some to a fresh cloth. "Lionel. . .I'm sorry about Lex," she offered despondently, dabbing at his cuts gently with the witch hazel. "I know it must be hard. . ."

"In a way, it is. I wanted to help Lex. I tried to grasp the situation, to understand it, but, ah, since losing my connection with Jor-El, I can no longer interpret the Kryptonian ways."

"You lost all ties to Jor-El?"

He nodded.

"I think you're better off without his connection." She set the cloth down. "Well, you're as good as new, Lionel. Though I think you should keep an eye on that gash on your cheek."

"Thank you, Martha." He stood and motioned for her to sit. "If you would permit me, I'd like to do the same for you."

Martha obediently sat down and he began gently wiping away the dirt and dried blood upon her face. She allowed her eyes to close, exhaustion and anxiety weighing heavily on her. His touch was gentle and languid, soothing.

"What happened, Martha?" Lionel asked tenderly. "I assumed you sensed the chaos stirring in Metropolis and had the pilot reverse his course, but, ah, these cuts tell a different story."

"You're right. The plane crashed and Lois and I found ourselves stranded in the Arctic."

"My God, Martha–"

Martha opened her eyes and patted his hand in a reassuring gesture meant to sooth him. "We survived, Lionel. It so happened that the plane crashed right in front of the Fortress." She gave a derisive laugh. "As far as coincidences go, this one tops them all."

"So I assume Jor-El aided you in returning?"

"Yes. He also instructed me to kill Lex, but. . ." She shook her head, falling silent. "What a day it has been."

Lionel applied witch hazel to her cuts and the scrape above her eye, then quietly pulled out a chair and sat across from her. "Are you all right?"

"No. No, I'm not."

He reached out, gently taking her hands into his, running his thumbs back and forth over her knuckles in languid, soothing motions.

"I'm so sorry about Lex," she said brokenly as she pulled away and stood, placing the witch hazel into the first-aid kit. "I can't imagine how hard it is for you." She sniffed, tears pooling in her eyes, one escaping and sliding down her cheek.

Lionel rose and went to her, arms enveloping her in a hug. A sob wracked her body as she lay her head against his chest, clinging to him tightly.

"Oh, Lionel. . ."

"Shh, it's all right, Martha. . ."

He held her like that, allowing her to let go of her emotions, allow them to come pouring out like an overflowing river. He dared to rest his chin atop her shoulder. Inhaling her sweet, alluring fragrance, he closed his eyes, finding their close contact comforting to his own distressed nerves.

They continued to hold one another, to sooth and offer words of comfort. It was what they both needed after the events of the past day, which had brought anguish and utter chaos.

Lionel couldn't remember the last time he had been held by a woman who cared. Martha was truly his saving grace, his light. Without her, he felt, what would life be? Empty, desolate. He was grateful he had this wonderful woman in his life, the one human being he'd do anything for.

 _You'll never know how much I love you, Martha Kent._

Lionel heaved a gentle sigh. For now, he'd relish in her company, be thankful that she even considered him a friend, despite that he wanted much more. He quietly drew closer, pulled her tightly against him, and was thrilled when she didn't tense uncomfortable or draw back. Martha was too distressed, and she too, had craved to be held.

When they finally did draw back, they smiled at one another, all tension and anxiety gone.


End file.
